


The Grin

by EdnaV



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), because honestly I'm not over the wall slam yet, could you please just kiss?, the satanic convent scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdnaV/pseuds/EdnaV
Summary: “A moral argument? Really?”Oh, no, thought Aziraphale.The Grin.Sometimes Crowley doesn't just grin — he Grins. And Aziraphale knows that something's about to happen...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 262





	The Grin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_moonmoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_moonmoth/gifts).



> Well, I love the Satanic Convent scene. And I love the Ineffable Bickering Idiots. 
> 
> And when I saw [this prompt on Tumblr](https://themoonmothwrites.tumblr.com/post/189248043588/scintillatingshortgirl19-fluffmugger) by [the_moonmoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_moonmoth), I just _had_ to do it. 
> 
> (No beta, we saunter vaguely downwards like Crowley.)

“A moral argument? Really?”

 _Oh, no,_ thought Aziraphale. _The Grin._

Aziraphale could remember with the utmost clarity the first time he had seen Crowley grinning like that.

Florence, 1481.

Maybe it had been his fault. He had been a bit smug. “Well, my dear, as you don't read books, I thought you might _at least_ enjoy a night with a brilliant man whose intellect I am sure will shape the world.”

He had walked right into it.

Crowley, on the other hand, had grabbed Messer Da Vinci's arm and sauntered right into the first _taverna_ on the bank of the Arno river. Then into the next one. Then into another one.

Then Aziraphale had lost count of the cups of Chianti.

He had woken up the next afternoon in a notorious house of dubious repute. Crowley and Messer Da Vinci were discussing _wings_ , and _whether human-shaped beings could actually fly._

Crowley was slurring, “no, really, Leo, I've got to show you this, really, you won't believe it, but...”

Aziraphale had bolted upright.

The voice of a perfectly sober demon had greeted him.

_“Buongiorno, angel!”_

The demon had the most shamelessly self-satisfied smile on his face. _The Grin._

It had been the first time, but it hadn't been the last.

There didn't seem to be a rule. Sometimes it didn't happen for half a century, and then Crowley decided to pay him back with interests.

There had been at least three incidents at a single party in — _was it 1883? Probably._ Aziraphale had said something about the cut of Crowley's tailcoat. Crowley had almost convinced a lady-in-wating of Queen Victoria to don a flapper look _only_ 40 years too soon. Aziraphale still had nightmares about that evening.

What's worse, one night in 1992, after too many glasses of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, he had told Crowley that he still had nightmares about that evening.

Funnily enough, in that occasion, Crowley hadn't Grinned. He had just looked into his glass and said, “well, I thought you were having a lot of fun with _Oscar_.” And when Aziraphale had reacted with the face of a man who's just been punched in the guts, the demon had sighed and mumbled, “Sorry. Shall we move on to Scotch?”

So, there didn't seem to be a rule to predict when The Grin would appear.

The only rule of The Grin was that something would happen. Something that would terrify Aziraphale more than Crowley's driving style.

 _It was going so well_ , he thought. _Well, not considering the Apocalypse. And the misplaced Antichrist. And the missing Hellhound._

But the point was — he couldn't help feeling like it had been a _nice_ day. The weather had been sunny but not too warm. The biscuits that he had brought along had been pleasantly nibbled. Crowley's driving had been almost prudent. The Bentley had played some pleasant music — there was one, in particular, about _the days of our lives_ that was _catchy_ , as younger people were fond of saying these days.

And Crowley had been so _nice_ , cleaning his coat without even being asked. It was as if he knew what Aziraphale wanted, and did it without even thinking.

Yes, Crowley could be really nice. Not just _nice for a demon_ , just _a nice person_.

 _I must tell him,_ thought Aziraphale _. As an angel, it's my duty to encourage good feelings._

As they entered the former-Satanic-convent-turned-Lord-knows-what, he had almost forgot about The Grin.

Five minutes later, he remembered.

Six and a half minutes later, he had regretted his idea of calling Crowley _nice_.

Well, more or less. Crowley's reaction had been quite interesting, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you did... don't be shy, make me smile, leave a comment!


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